


battle scars

by endlessxriver



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BAMF Tony Stark, Gen, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Iron Dad, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Sad, Scars, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-07-15 17:57:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16068317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endlessxriver/pseuds/endlessxriver
Summary: “Hey, Pete, what's that on your hip?”“Hm?”Jeans in one hand, the kid looks a bit confused before his eyes drop to the round scar deeply engraved on his flesh.His whole body seems to tense like he's just remembered its existence. Tony feels his heart skip a beat. What the hell?ORThere's a scary scar above Peter's hip and Tony is concerned.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> no graphic rape or abuse but it's implied, so be careful guys. 
> 
> also, english isn't my first language (but I tried!!)
> 
> feedback is always appreciated, so feel free to comment or leave kudos <3

✦

 

It's just one of these nights.

The kid turns up in the lab, hair damp and shaking like a leaf in his suit. Apparently, Spider-Man didn't manage to avoid the storm outside. 

“Oh, man” he says as Tony throws him a towel with an eye roll. “I'm freezing.” 

He rubs the towel against his head, his teeth still chattering. Tony raises an eyebrow.

“Kid, you know there's a heating function in the suit, right?” 

Peter just stops rubbing his hair and looks at him like he'd just said Darth Vader was Luke's father all along.

“Well, duh!” he says. “But I got into a fight with... some guys and one of them punched me and- somehow, now I can't reach Karen and...”

“Wow, wait a sec” Tony raises a hand. “First, are you hurt? And don't try to bullshit me, buddy, 'cause you know damn well it never work.”

Peter shakes his head.

“I'm fine.” He lets out a chuckle. “Can't say the same about the guys, though. I may have –  _involuntarily_  of course – broken a few of their ribs. But I didn't mean to! It's just...” 

He grunts, then proceeds to fold the now damp towel on the nearest desk. Tony crosses his arms against his chest. 

“Who were they?” he asks, simply. 

It's weird. Peter doesn't usually throw punches at random muggers unless his life is heavily threatened. In normal days, he just webs them up and waits for the police to arrive. Something passes in the kid's eyes, something like a dark and dangerous glow, but he just shrugs it off.

“They were harassing this girl. She- she was young and all alone and...” 

Again, he shrugs. But Tony doesn't need any details. He got the picture.

“Okay.” he says, nodding slowly. “You did a good thing, kid. Now, pass me the suit so we can take a look at it.” 

Peter sighs with relief. He takes off his suit with shaky fingers before handing it to the older man. As the kid kneels down to grabs some clothes in his backpack, Tony can't help but take a quick glance at him, making sure he's not hiding any severe injuries (God knows how many times Peter tried to cover up bruises the size of dinner plates, or ugly knife wounds and the mechanic doesn't trust him on this anymore) but today, the boy seems perfectly okay. 

Tony is about to breathe in relief when he notices a weird scar just above his hip. A rather large and jagged circle, whiter than the rest of his skin. He frowns and drops the suit on his desk.

“Hey, Pete, what's that on your hip?” 

“Hm?”

Jeans in one hand, the kid looks a bit confused before his eyes drop to the round scar deeply engraved on his flesh.

His whole body seems to tense like he's just remembered its existence. Tony feels his heart skip a beat.  _What the hell?_

Peter opens his mouth to talk but his breathe gets caught up in his throat. His brown eyes widen with fear. Alerted, Tony stands up from his chair and slowly approaches the kid, hands hovering, unsure of what to do. 

“Are you okay?” he asks in a low tone. 

Paler than ever, Peter looks like he's about to faint. Then suddenly it's over. He jumps back on his feet abruptly, blinks a few time, snaps back into reality. 

“Yeah, sure.” he says before pulling on his jeans and t-shirt.

Colors rise on his cheeks and he tries to smile, but the smile looks fake.

“So-um- my suit...” 

Tony shakes his head. No,  _no way_ , he can't change the subject. Not when there's a fucking  _bite mark_  on his body. A bite mark that doesn't look recent at all. 

“Pete, what is this?” he cuts in, taking a step ahead. “The scar, how'd you get it?” 

Peter obviously flinches, avoiding the older man's gaze, and for a second, Tony regrets asking him about it. But he  _has_  to know.

“It's not- it's nothing. Look, can we- can we go back to fixing my suit, please?”

“Who did this to you?” 

There's a moment of silence. Finally, the boy meets his mentor's eyes. His lower lip starts to tremble. 

“No one."he answers, too fast. "It was an accident- when I was little, I...” 

Tony wants to scream at the kid's stubbornness. He racks a hand through his scalp. 

“ _Stop_.” His tone makes Peter's mouth snaps shut. “Don't lie to me, Parker. That _thing_ on your hip, I know what it is, okay? So don't even try to...” 

He can't finish his sentence because the kid already grabbed his backpack and is now rushing towards the lab's doors, desperate to escape this conversation. Tony groans in frustration. 

“FRIDAY, lock the door. Pete can't leave until I say so.” 

With a loud sound, the doors shut down. Peter just stands there, facing the wall, his fists tightened against his thighs, his breathing short and shallow. 

“Let me out, Mr. Stark. Please.” he says through clenched teeth.

Tony shakes his head again. 

“It's Friday night.” he says as matter-of-factly. “And your suit isn't ready yet.”

Friday nights are their nights. Usually, they spend them in the lab, working and talking and teasing each other. They listen to music, they watch movies or play video-games and the kid tell him about college, and his patrols, and his friends, and girls (or boys). Sometimes the conversation turns into darker subjects, such as the war and the nightmares.

It took time to get Peter back on track, after everything was fixed. Their relationship grew and now, Tony finds it scary how much he care about the well-being of this kid that's not even his. Pepper and Rhodey keep teasing him about it, in fact. “ _You're such a dad._ ” they say, and he doesn't find the energy to contradict them. Or maybe he just doesn't want to.

“Let me out.” Peter repeats with more control this time. 

“You need to calm down.” Tony gestures towards the left. “Here, come sit on the couch so we can talk.”

“Open the doors.” Peter is shaking now. Tony starts walking towards the teenager.

“ _ _Boss, Peter seems to have trouble breathing and his heart rate is too elevated. Should I call a doctor?__ ” FRIDAY's robotic voice says in the speakers. 

Tony stops dead in his tracks.  _ _Shit__. The kid is experiencing a panic attack because of him, because of his questions. What was he thinking, pressuring him like that? He's the worst. Worse than Howard. 

“Open- open the doors.  _Please_.” Peter's voice is a pathetic wail now and Tony has never felt so bad before.

Guilt spreads its poison inside his veins. He sighs. 

“Okay. Just- easy, kid, alright? FRI, unlock the doors.”

Another noise tells him the AI obeyed. But Peter doesn't move, doesn't leave. He just... stands there in the middle of the room, like he's frozen to the core. 

Eventually, Tony decides to let him find his breath again and goes back to work. He sits at his desk and begins to fix the suit in silence. A few moments later, looking a bit better, the kid turns on his heels. Slowly, he walks past the mechanic to go sit on the couch at the back of the lab. Tony just pretends to ignore him even though he can't help but sighs in relief. 

The silence is deafening, so...  _unusual_. A chill runs down his spine.

“I had a babysitter.” 

Peter's voice startles him a little. Tony immediately stops toying with his tools and turns his chair towards the boy. He's sitting at the edge of the couch, elbows on the laps, looking at nothing in particular.  _ _His eyes__ , Tony thinks with a stinging sensation in his heart.  _ _God, they look... so empty.__

The expression on Peter's face is something he wished he'd never had to see again. Not since the kid disappeared in his arms on a deserted planet. At this thought, he swallows the lump stuck in his throat. 

“Pete.” he says, his voice softer than ever. “You- you don't have to. I'm sorry, I'm just being my worried usual self and...”

“I want to.” Peter raises his head. They lock eyes for what seems like an eternity. “I-I need to.” 

 _Fine_. Tony nods. He grips his left wrist to keep it from shaking.

“His name was Skip.” Peter goes on as his gaze falls to the ground again. “He wasn't a very nice person.” 

 _ _Oh God__. Tony regrets everything. He shouldn't have. He shouldn't have asked the boy about his scar. It's none of his business. He  _can't_  listen to this. 

He takes a deep breath through his nose and closes his eyes. Peter shuffles a bit on his seat.

“He- he told me we were friends, so I believed him. I didn't have so many friends, back then. I mean, I still don't but – but he was older and he was so cool.” 

His voice cracks a little at the word  _cool_. Tony's heart rate speeds up. He opens his eyes to find the boy still staring at the carpet, lost in painful thoughts.

“One evening, he told we were going to play a new kind of game.” Peter lets out a low, sad chuckle. “I was so excited. Then he showed me some magazines.” He raises an eyebrow. “ _Adult_ magazines.” 

“Peter...” Tony can feel the blood throbbing against his temples. 

Without thinking he backs away from his chair to take place on the couch, next to the kid. This time, Peter doesn't flinch and Tony's secretly grateful. Scaring him would be the final straw. 

“He said- he said we were going to do the same as the models on the pictures.” Peter seems to repress a shiver. “That's when I understood-” He closes his eyes and stays silent for a while. 

Tony wants to reach out for him, hold him tight and promise him everything will be okay. But he can't. He's glued to his seat, heart beating painfully inside his chest.

“I- I couldn't move.” Peter says, a minute later. “I wanted to- to scream, but I was petrified. And he- he kept pinching me and whispering  _things_ to me like – that I was a dirty boy and that my aunt and uncle wouldn't love me anymore if they knew.” 

Tony's blood boils. The anger grows in the pit of his stomach. He sees red. He wants to find the fucker and make him pay. He wants to hurt him, to make him scream until he begs. He wants to... to drain the life out off his eyes.

He clenches his left fist, so hard he feels his nails pierce through his skin. The pain brings him back into reality. 

“How old were you?” Tony hears himself ask.

A beat. Then : 

“Nine.” Peter's voice is barely a whisper.

 _ _Jesus__. Tony holds out a hand as to comfort the kid, but at the last very moment he thinks of better and instead, lets it drop on his lap. 

“How many times...”

“It went on for a month. Then Skip moved out of town.” 

Now Tony feels awfully sick.  _ _A month__ _._ The asshole assaulted the kid for _a month_. He's scared of asking the next question but he does it anyway:

"Did you- did you tell anyone?"

Peter nods.

"I told Ned. And- and my aunt and uncle."

He's silent again. Tony knows his silence can only mean one thing. That Skip was never apprehended. That he never paid for his actions. That he went on with his meaningless life leaving the nine year old kid he hurt with severe trauma. Did he hurt,  _ _raped__ ,  _marked_  some more children after this? Tony can taste the bile in his throat at this thought.

He takes a look at the teenager, and something warm clutches his heart. He doesn't need his friends to know that it goes deeper than just affection, mentor-towards-mentee style. It's stronger. It's pride and fondness. It's love.

How come this little boy who went through so much in such a short lifespan, grew up to be this perfect, selfless, amazing and brave young man? _Damn_ , he thinks. _May and Ben did one hell of a job._

“I'm sorry.” is all Tony manages to say.

“Not your fault.”

But isn't it, though? He wasn't around back then. _Iron Man_. The 'hero' whose job is to protect innocents from getting hurt, to keep them away from monsters like Skip. It's just another failure to add to his endless list. If only he could go back in time and change everything. Spare the kid all the evilness of this world.

Minutes pass. Tony's about to stand when, suddenly, he feels the weight and warmth of Peter's head on his shoulder. The mechanic's eyes start to sting and he blinks the tears away.

Hesitantly, he places a hand on the boy's back and when he's sure he's not overstepping some limits and that Peter is comfortable with the gesture, he brings him closer until he can bury his nose in the kid's curls.

Immediately, Peter leans into the embrace, relieving a quivering breath, his body going limp against Tony's chest. They stay like that for a while, gently swaying back and forth.

“I've never tried to have my scars removed.” Tony says, breaking the quietude. “I've got a hell lot of these uglies on my chest and on my left side. But- they're here to remind me of who I truly am. What I went through and what I fought for.” He sighs. “I'm not ashamed of them and neither should you, kid.”

Peter gives the smallest nod but Tony is not convinced. He gently departs from him and keep him at arm's length.

“Pete, look at me.”

Brown, teary, tired eyes meet his.

“You're the bravest person I know.” Tony says, with a watery smile. _I'm so, so proud of you._

The kid's eyes drift to the left, his shoulders slump.

“I'm not.” he whispers, timidly.

_So stubborn._

“Come on, kiddo, don't contradict an old man. You know I never lie.”

Peter chuckles a bit at this. It's such a pleasant sound. Tony groans and softly ruffles the kid's hair.

“Now, how about you go catch on some sleep while I finish working on your suit?” he asks.

But Peter shakes his head.

“No. I want to help you. Please. If- if you don't mind.”

Tony nods, then stands up.

“Fine,” he says and he points a finger at him. “but you're on coffee's duty.”

This time, Peter's smile is genuine and the image makes Tony's heart flutter with joy. And before he can take another step towards the desk, the kid is hugging him fiercely, two tight fists gripping his shirt. Tony is so surprised he doesn't hug him back before a while. Eventually, he wraps his arms around the boy and holds him with the same firmness.

There's a thousand words he wants to say, but none of them reach his lips. So he stays quiet and closes his eyes, enjoying the warmth. 

“Mr. Stark?” Peter says, voice muffled against his shoulder.

“Yes, kid?”

“Thank you.”

Tony masks the sudden sob that grow in his chest behind a little cough.

“Don't mention it.” _I love you._

 

✦


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony decides to find out more about Skip...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i've decided to add a little chapter to this story...
> 
> it may be a little more gory and explicit than the first one.
> 
> i'm eternally grateful for the feedback and the kudos <3

✦

 

“ _Honey, are you sure you're okay?”_

On the screen floating above him, Pepper narrows her pale eyes. She's fully dressed up and ready for her next meeting with the leaders of a big Korean industry, miles away from his own crouched form, in their room at the New York's compound. Tony lets out a shaky breath, but manages a reassuring smile. She's busy and stressed enough as it is.

_How would Pep react if she knew?_

_What would she do?_  

Of course, he's not okay. Peter's words are stuck in his head. He can't stop seeing the despair marked on his face, his empty eyes, while the boy has recalled his deepest, most terrifying memory ...It's been three hours since they have finished working on the suit – turned out some of the functions have been compromised after a nasty blow from one of the muggers – now, the kid is (according to FRIDAY) deeply asleep in his own room.

Tony is more than grateful that Peter is still able to rest even after the shitstorm of tonight.

He can't say that much about himself... A boiling shower apparently wasn't enough to ease down the flame of anger burning in the pit of his stomach, nor his nausea at the very thought of a piece of shit like Skip still walking free in the streets.

_What would she do?_

_What would_ you  _do?_

“I'm good. Just missing you.”

Pepper, obviously, can see through his bullshit. She knows him better than everyone else. But tonight, she doesn't push. They're both exhausted and she still have work to do.

After the war, nothing has been the same anymore, but with time passing, the nervous breakdowns eventually let place to more dark, silent moments full of intruding thoughts and flashbacks.

It doesn't affect him only. It's now the curse of every single one survivor.

“ _Try to get some sleep. I'm coming back home next Saturday.”_

She smiles then, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes.

“I love you.” he says, his voice low.

“ _I love you too.”_

The call ends, the floating screen disappears. The room is now plunged into darkness and he's laying on the bed, alone with his thoughts. Sleep is out of the equation, not that it's a surprise. Tony hasn't had a good night sleep since... since early childhood, he guesses.

“FRI?” he calls, breaking the silent atmosphere.

“ _Boss?_ ” The AI responds immediately.

Tony opens his mouth to talk, but somehow, the words get stuck in his throat. Eyes on the ceiling, he hesitates. Does he really want to do this?

_Does he have a choice?_

It feels... intrusive. Tony is not really familiar with the concept of privacy. His whole life has been under a spotlight, for the best and for the worst.

But this... this is about the kid. That kid he thought he knew everything about, until today.

 _I'm just gonna take a quick look_ , he tells himself, as he asks FRIDAY to access Peter's personal files. His medical files, to be exact.

Tony will never be able to rest until he knows the name. Until he knows what the son of a bitch is up to, nowadays.

A brand floating screen appears in front of him. He sits up on the bed, heart pumping hard against his chest, anxiety building inside his throat.

There are a lot of files, that go from the kid's birth to— age fourteen, around the time of the spider's bite. Of course now, Peter rarely gets sick, and when he does, his healing power takes rapid care of the matter.

Tony ignores the oldest files – he tells himself he doesn't want to be  _that_ nosy, even though he's now elbow deep into the kid's secrets and the guilty feeling is already running in his veins – and goes straight to the ones dated from 2010.

He tries hard not to stare at the picture attached at the upper left of the document – a picture of a younger Peter, baby-cheeks and wide brown eyes hidden behind a pair of thick glasses. The picture was probably taken for a school photoshoot and the kid is smiling timidly. That smile... that smile is so familiar, so— _trusting._ Tony feels his chest tighten with pain.

He looks away and furrows his brows. Peter has been a sickly child, he notes as his eyes come across multiples cases of cold, flu, migraine and asthma attacks until he finally finds the file he's looking for. The notes have been scribbled by a doctor, he supposes, and are quite hard to read :

 

_( November 2010_

_Peter Parker, 9, has been admitted to the ER, for suspicion of sexual assault._

_The child presents signs of severe emotional distress and confusion. For now, he refuses to talk._

_After a first examination, it is clear that the child has been physically abused. There is a 1.5 inches human's bite on his left side, above the hip-bone, a week old I would say, from the state of the scarring. It is slightly infected._

_There are a few almost healed bruises and cuts alongside his upper arms, on his neck, collarbone, back and thighs, results of pinches and scratches._

_The SAK used two days after the last suspected attack shows evidence of forced entry— )_

Tony stops reading, swallows down his nausea. He doesn't need – he doesn't _want_ \- to know the details, because it makes it a thousand times more difficult. So he scrolls down and down, ignoring the single tear that is rolling on his cheek, until the doctor's conclusion :

_( The child's uncle and legal guardian, Benjamin Parker, claims that his nephew was assaulted at least four times by his babysitter — a neighbor from the family's apartment in Queens, Steven Westcott, aged 16...)_

There it is.

Steven Westcott.

_Skip._

Tony blinks his tears away and takes a last glance at the picture of nine year-old Peter, before ordering FRIDAY to close the files and to start digging some informations on that name.

 _And now?_ his conscience asks.

_What do you want to do?_

_What do you_ need  _to do?_

 

  __________________

 

 

Barely a week later, FRIDAY has gathered enough informations about Westcott. Tony learns a lot about the man. Where he lives, what's his job, the names of his boss and all of his friends, girlfriend, parents, any relatives... After the assault, Skip was sent to juvie for a while, but considering the fact that he was still a minor at the time, with a clean criminal record, and the lack of further proofs after the police's investigation, he was quickly released.

Which makes Tony see red.

Of course, all it would take from him would be one phone-call to send Westcott's ass back in jail where he belongs, and make sure he never  _ever_ see the light again.

But Tony lays awake at night and all he can see is Peter's lifeless eyes, and the pain on his face, and the little boy's timid smile on the picture and he knows, he _knows_ , that jail would never be enough for a monster like Westcott.

That's why, on Thursday night, Tony, his nano suit sticking to him like second-skin, finds himself hidden in the parking lot of a bank, in south Washington, silently waiting for the well-dressed business man he's had a glance at earlier in the day.

Steven Westcott turned out to be the wealthy, all fake-smiles and irritating laughs typical scumbag who always seem to gain people's trust with their cocky personality and manipulative temper.

Tall and blonde, tanned skin and slim figure probably obtained thanks to a free pass at the local gym-club. A twenty-something bachelor who works at the bank and enjoys hurting and terrorizing kids in his spare time.

Tony waits, heart pulsating against his metal chest, blood covering his vision. Around 8 p.m, workers start to leave the building, beading each others goodbye and moving to their cars.

Westcott is one of the last. He comes out of the bank with a couple of his co-workers and Tony hears them exchanging a few jokes before they leave to retrieve their cars on the parking lot.

 

As Skip approaches his own flamboyant Aston Martin, parked close to where he's hiding, Tony steps out of the darkness and calls his name out loud.

Westcott startles and turns around, eyes narrowed and uncertain. Then he freezes, dead on tracks. His brows disappears into his hairline.

“What the—“

He doesn't have time to say more. Tony clads a metal hand around his throat and fly them both off in the air. Seconds later, he drops Skip on the building's rooftop. The man's body hits the concrete with a loud thud and Iron Man lands in front of him, dark and menacing.

Westcott immediately trails back, away from the imposing figure, using his heels and hands. His breathes are short and shallow and his mouth ajar. A mix of confusion and fear plaster his features. Before Skip can even try to stand up, Tony grabs him by the collar of his jacket and slams him against the nearest wall.

They're so close now, he can feel Westcott's rapid heartbeat resonating and his body trembling against his own. The faceplate retracts itself and Tony stares at the man with a deadly glare. Skip swallows dryly.

“What— what are you doing?” he asks, wheezing.

Tony doesn't say a word. He clenches his metal fist and punches him in the face. Bones crack under his knuckles. Westcott's head snaps to the right. He lets out a strangled shriek then spits a mouthful of blood on the floor.

As the now screaming man begins to struggle, Tony tightens his grip around his collar. His mind feels completely numb. His body is tense and throbbing with fire. This is a feeling he's never experienced before — not even when he was fighting against a titan, thirsty for justice and revenge, so close to his very own demise. This is... a burning and aching rage, making his blood boils like lava inside his veins.

And the more he hears Westcott yelps, the more the feeling grows and overpowers all his other senses.

Again, Tony throws his metal fist against the monster's face. This time, Skip is almost knocked unconscious but he shakes him until the man's dropping eyelids open brutally and his blue eyes widen with terror and agony.

“Please— please, stop—“ his voice is a childish whine. Tony shivers with disgust.

_Is this what my kid said while you were abusing him?_

_Did you ignore his pleas? Did you ignore his cries?_

_How can you even look at yourself in the mirror?_

_How can you even sleep at night?_

He lets go of Westcott and takes a step back. Skip drops like a fly on the concrete, half-sobbing and choking on his own blood. The night is dark and chilly. Twenty stories below, cars are honking, dogs are barking and people are laughing. No one has a single clue what's going on up there. 

Slowly, Westcott raises his head. Blood rolls from his broken nose, splattering the ground. The sound makes Tony snaps back into reality. The bastard is a couple of blows away from death.

“Why— Why are you doing this?” Skip's pathetic form asks, shuddering.

“You hurt someone I love.”

Tony grabs Westcott by the neck of his jacket and drags him along the ground until they're both at the ledge of the building. He forces Skip to stand up on his shaky legs, not relieving his grip. The man starts to violently shake his head.

“Nononononono— no, _wait_ , I...”

“Shut the fuck up and give me your phone.” Tony growls through clenched teeth. Westcott looks at him in confusion but quickly proceeds to take his phone out of his coat's inner pocket. He hands it to the mechanic.

Tony takes a quick glance at the object and scoffs. A Starkphone. How ironic. 

He unlocks the screen then scrolls through the different apps until he finds the one he's looking for.

Skip takes the opportunity to try to back away from his grip but Iron Man is stronger than him and, eventually, he just ends up squealing under the hero's menacing glare.

“Tell me, Steven, how many children have you _raped_?” Tony asks, his tone dangerously low and steady.

Again, Skip shakes his head with firmness.

“I don't...”

“Cut the bullshit, you son of a bitch. How many?”

Skip swallows heavily and snaps his eyes shut.

“You don't— you don't understand.” he replies, lip trembling.

Tony's jaw stiffens.

“Tell me, Steven. Help me understand. Help me understand what's going on inside the brain of a piece of shit like you that make them harm and traumatize little children.”

Westcott's eyes are still closed. He's panting.

“It's not— it's not like that, I swear.” he gasps. “When— when I see them, I can't— I can't control myself...”

Tony punches him in the stomach. Skip yelps and bends in two, out of breath, more blood dropping from his open mouth.

Tony wants to push him to the ground, straddle him and continue his punching until his anger eases down. But he can't. He has others plans.

“You're going to listen to me very carefully and do exactly as I tell, you hear me?” Iron Man says, leaning closer until they're almost face to face.

Skip opens his eyes and nods. Tony shows him the phone he's still holding.

“I'm going to record your confession, Steven. All of it. I want the whole truth. I want names. The names of every kid you ever hurt, got it?”

A wince deforming his lips, Skip nods again.

“Then,” Tony adds, “you're going to apologize to your family, your friends, your co-workers. You're going to tell them, admit that you're a sick pervert who don't deserve to live. Admit that you're a monster who enjoys watching children suffer.”

Skip stays still and silent for a few seconds before Tony shakes him out of his trance. Then he opens his mouth and whispers a barely audible “okay”.

“If you don't do exactly what I said, I will kill you. Here, on this rooftop. And I'm going to make sure you scream in _agony_ , Steven. Trust me on that.”

Tony opens the voice-recording app and holds up the phone close to Skip's face. The man lets out a shuddering breath, swallows down a lump and closes his eyes. He starts talking.

Minutes passes. Tony listens as Westcott lies, telling everyone how he screwed up, making excuses as to why he is like this, blaming God, his teachers, and his parents who were never there for him and treated him like shit.

Tony wants to laugh at that. _Guess what buddy, you and me both. But you don't see me going around hurting kids in the worst ways possible just because I had a fucked up childhood._

“... I'm sorry. All of you. Evie. Kate. Sacha.” (He winces.) “Thomas. Lewis. Jake. Susie.” There's a hard pause. Then, “ _Peter_. I— I didn't mean to.”

Skip shuts up finally and Tony stops the recording. He realizes he's been shaking since he's heard all of these children's names coming out from Westcott's mouth. Since he's heard Peter's name. The bastard remembers. He remembers every single one of them. Eight kids.

He ruined the lives of eight kids.

As if one wasn't already enough.

Skip never stopped.

And he will never stop. He will _never_ stop. Not unless someone stops him first.

“Can— can I go now?” 

Westcott's voice sounds relieved, perhaps even more confident.

But not because he just revealed his true face to the world. Only because he thinks Tony is done with him and he can go back to living his meaningless life as if nothing ever happened.

At this thought, Tony lets out a hysterical laugh. It hurts his chest and he can't barely breathe, and now Skip is looking at him like he is the crazy one, the _fucked up_ one, and Tony laughs even harder until the laughs turn into angry sobs and he doesn't even think twice.

 

He pushes Skip Westcott off the ledge.

 

And Tony waits. He waits until, he hears the sound of a body hitting the roof of a car with a loud thump and the anti-theft alarm that immediately activates. People start screaming and the dogs bark even louder.

Tony kneels down and places the Starkphone on the ground, so that the police can have a nice surprise when they come up here.

Then he flies off, leaving without even looking back.

 

 

____________________

 

  

A few days later, Tony is working in his lab when FRIDAY's robotic's voice breaks the quietude.

“ _Boss, you have an incoming call from Peter.”_

Tony's breath gets stuck in his throat and the screwdriver he was holding rolls on the carpeted floor.

“Yes,” he manages, heart sinking low. “FRI, put him through." 

Seconds passes and feel like hours. Then :

“ _Mr. Stark?_ ”

The kid's voice is steady. But something is off, he can feel it deep inside his bones. He racks a hand along his face.

“Hey, Pete. What's up?”

There's a silence that makes Tony want to throw up.

“ _Skip is dead.”_

 _Jesus, kid._ Tony closes his eyes, tries hard to ignore the stinging sensation of tears.

“What?” he whispers, because he can't think of anything else to say.

“ _Skip is dead_ ,” Peter repeats, sounding utterly dumbfounded, and maybe even a bit scared. “ _I don't know— I've just read it in the news. Mr. Stark, they said— the police said that he killed himself?_ ”

Tony's jaw stiffens and his chest feels tight all of the sudden. He tries to control his breathing.

“Oh,” he says. “God, are you— are you sure?”

“ _Yes. It's him, I saw... I saw the picture._ ”

Peter sniffs and stays silent for a while. Tony wishes he was here so he could hold him and reassure him. _You're okay now, Pete. Everything's okay._

“ _Apparently, he left a recording. Like a— like a suicide note.”_ There's another pregnant pause _. “Do you think— do you think he ever regretted...”_

“No, kid.” Tony cuts him in, the heat spreading on his face. “That scumbag finally did the world a favor. He can't harm anyone anymore.”

“ _I just— I feel bad._ ” Peter whispers, sounding close to tears. “ _Because I'm relieved and I shouldn't be relieved that someone is_ dead _, it's... it's just_ wrong _, Tony_.”

Tony slams his fist hard against the desk. More tools fall to the ground. No, _no way_. Peter is the kindest person in the whole universe. But he can't feel guilty about this. He can't.

“Peter, you have allthe rights to feel relieved.” he says through clenched teeth. “Listen to me. It's okay. You didn't kill him, kid. That bastard _chose_ that for himself. His death is _not_ your fault and it will _never_ be your fault, you hear me?”

_I take the whole blame. And I regret nothing. I'd do it again and again and again..._

“Pete?”

“ _Yes.”_ A quiet sob. _“You're right."_  

Tony closes his eyes again.

“ _You're right. I'm sorry—_ “

“Don't.” Tony warns, letting out a breath he didn't know he was holding until now. “Now, you just need to relax. Go out with Ned or that girlfriend of yours. Go hug your aunt. And if you need to talk about this whole thing— you come to me, okay?”

“ _Okay.”_

That's all the kid needs to know. For now. But Peter is smart. Maybe, some day, he'll figure it out by himself.

And what will happen then?

Will he be mad? Grateful?

 _It doesn't matter_ , Tony thinks. _What's done is done._

The silence is heavy, now. Though he can still hear the kid's sniffing.

“ _Thank you, Tony._ ” Peter says after a while. His voice is tainted with something. Something that sounds like... admiration? “ _For— you know.”_ A pause. _“For_ everything _. See you next weekend_ _._ ” 

The call ends.

Tony feels the familiar warmth spreading inside his chest. He brings his trembling hands to his face.

 _Don't thank me, kid. From now on, I'm going to make sure that no one will never_ ever _hurt you again._

 

_✦_


End file.
